Never Let Me Go
by zaraX
Summary: Voldemort has conquered. Death Eaters reign. In a frightening and dark world, hope, love, and loyalty are put to the test. Dramione.


Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series—all characters and settings belong to JK Rowling and Scholastic.

_**prologue**_

"You're a disgrace."

The words rang out with palpable disgust, and Draco clenched his jaw to keep from defending himself. Years of verbal abuse had taught him that arguing would be pointless. Instead, he retreated farther into the shadows of his bedroom, away from the seething wizard in front of him.

"You humiliated all of us tonight." Lucius hissed.

"I just don't-" Draco began.

"Agree?" Lucius interrupted softly, taking a step closer. "You disagree, Draco?"

"I..." The sentence of protest died on Draco's lips as he faltered. By now, he was already considered the aberration of the family Lucius was so ashamed of. He'd be insane to speak against his father. Yet there was something else within his chest that felt like it was pounding and screaming against his ribcage, begging to be freed like a virus that didn't want to belong. And every time his father laid his condescending, expectant gaze upon Draco, the unsettling feeling intensified, itching to be spoken.

Draco stuffed his fists in his pockets, clenching his wand with anger, confusion, and fear. _I hate him, _Draco thought bitterly, _Him, and the Death Eaters, Aunt Bella, Voldemort... _His fingernails dug sharply into his palm.

Lucius raised a pale eyebrow. "Nothing to say to your father?"

Draco ignored him and focused on the light that filtered through the crack under his door. _  
_

"Very well," Lucius' thin lips curved into a sneer. "Sulk about it. You understand that I prefer not to make things messy, of course, but...certain steps must be taken sometimes..." He waved his wand and uttered an unfamiliar spell, "_Secasangui."_

Deep scarlet blossomed across Draco's white shirt, and his vision swam seconds before the sharp pain hit him, forcing his legs to buckle weakly until his knees crashed to the ground and he was on all fours. The floorboards beneath him became a blur. The pain intensified around his chest and forced him to gasp sharply in pain. All thoughts left his mind until it was oddly vacant...a flash of light dancing in one corner...red, then electric green and cyan blaring in another. Warm liquid tickled his cheek, and somewhere in the darkness in front of him, the tangible sound of a cold voice reached out and curled its wisps of hatred around his wrists.

"Father," Draco managed to croak out, "S-stop."

Wrists trembling, scarlet slipping down his chest, his flesh burned. His body ached.

Lucius loomed over him and spoke in a dangerous whisper, "I'll stop, after you make a promise."

Draco's neck jerked in a nod.

Lucius lifted the curse and stepped around his son, gazing down at him with the air of someone staring at a dead animal.

"You will loyally serve the Dark Lord because it is your duty."

Draco groaned quietly, and he felt a boot roughly jab him in the stomach. "Swear it," Lucius hissed, "Or we'll resort to the Unbreakable Vow."

Dark blurred into light as Draco opened his mouth slowly, breath hitching before he could utter a word. "I...swear. I will loyally serve the Dark Lord because it is my duty."

Lucius continued, "And that you shall not stray nor deviate from the future that has been generously chosen for you."

Draco repeated "I swear", allowing his eyes to close and the message to fully sink in until it suppressed any mere thought of resistance.

_Generously._

Because it was a privilege to devote his life, and his entire existence, to the Dark Lord.

His fingers curled, and the sound of his nails scraping against the floor met his ears. There was no protesting now. Maybe his father was right. This was the blueprint for his family—the guide he had to follow for the rest of his life. Fighting it would be foolish.

Lucius bent down just a fraction, and his cold hand cupped Draco's chin. "Good, boy." His eyes gleamed in the dim lighting. "Now remember it." He straightened with ease, turned his back, and strode out of Draco's room, shutting the door behind him with a flippant wave of his hand.

Draco's eyes burned a hole into the space his father had just occupied.

_"...loyally serve the Dark Lord..."_

He unintentionally squeezed his arm harder. More scarlet liquid trickled out from the cut on his shoulder, and he watched distantly as it slid down to his palm. He didn't feel it. Not anymore. The blood was only blood, and the gashes on his chest were only cuts on his body. But the anger and fear and hatred still simmered like a haphazardly brewed potion—like poison.

The clock downstairs began to chime, signaling midnight's arrival. Leaning against the wall, Draco closed his eyes and allowed complete darkness to seep into his vision. Somewhere in the back of his mind he noted that today was officially June fifth. He smirked, even laughed mirthlessly to himself, when he recalled Pansy's detailed prediction of what his birthday party would be like this year.

_"Only pureblood families will be invited, of course...your mother will probably have the entire Celestia Orchestra playing on the balcony, there'll be fireworks, an evening Quidditch game, the grand feast, as per usual, and I bet a hundred galleons that your father has already bought out half of Dhalia's Delectable Desserts...It'll be unforgettable..."_

__Pansy was right. Somewhere along his family's descent into madness, they had remembered to make his birthday _unforgettable. _The biggest surprise? Lord Voldemort's timely arrival.

He listened to the last echoing chime, realizing that it marked exactly fifteen years of hell, when hell hadn't even begun.


End file.
